


Following the Same Road

by JadicusMuse



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Billie is a Mom, Gen, Human Outsider (Dishonored), I am disregarding The Veiled Terror as canon, Outsider's Name is Isaac, Post-Dishonored 2 (Video Game), Post-Dishonored: Death of the Outsider, Revenge, The Outsider is still figuring out what the hell he's supposed to be doing, Torture, because it confuses me and isn't very clear on the aftermaths of doto, parental figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadicusMuse/pseuds/JadicusMuse
Summary: "Is this really want Billie would've wanted? Would she have wanted you following the same road? Think about this, Outsider."
Relationships: Billie Lurk | Meagan Foster & The Outsider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Nightmares

There was a little house on the waterfronts of Karnaca, along the Point Batista. Fishing nets draped over the banisters of the small, weathered, wooden porch, and crab cages tucked neatly underneath it. The sun had just set and the sky was a deep indigo color, wispy clouds still reflecting pink and soft yellows. Soft orange lights from the windows cast long shadows across the boardwalk and onto the dark ocean waters. A shadow of a figure passed the window, returning to the window and standing in front of it.

And inside, the figure’s piercing green eyes, concentrated, looked out the window, dark eyebrows furrowed. “Isaac,” a voice came from within the house. The figure closed his eyes slowly, eyebrows softening.

“What do you need, Billie?”

“Nothing. Only wondering what you’re thinking about.” Said Billie Lurk, sat at a chair next to the fire, hunched over, stoking it with the fire iron. 

“Back-alley rumors. Returns of the Abbey of the Everyman.” Isaac turned around, leaning against the windowsill.

“The Abbey? They’ve been gone for 4 years. The Empress made sure of that.” Billie glanced over her shoulder, “There’s no way they could have come back from that.”

“I know but...” Isaac paused, “For the first time, in a _very_ long time, I’m feeling genuine fear. For my life.”

“The Abbey never found you before the Dissolution, why be afraid now? Why be afraid of rumors?” She stood up from her place at the fire, walking slowly over to the young man.

“Because we knew before, Billie. We knew that they were a risk and how to spot them. But now, even if just a rumor, we don’t. And I don’t know what they would do if they were to find the former God of the Void-”

“Kid,” Billie put a firm hand on Isaac’s shoulder, “I won’t let that happen.”

When Billie rescued The Outsider from the Void, she’d never had any plans of being a parental figure to him. But looking at him now, a barely 19-year-old boy with rheumy, nervous eyes, scared of what the world thought of him. She couldn’t help but feel obliged more than ever to take care of him. 

“I’ve dealt with enough of the Abbey, you don’t have to worry about anything. You have my word. I haven’t let you get into trouble before have I?”

Isaac shrugged away from Billie’s hand, looking at the floor, “I guess you haven’t.”

“I’ve gotten your ass out of trouble far too many times, some religious zealots aren’t going to be the thing to stop me from doing it again.” Billie ruffled his slightly shaggy black hair, “You need a haircut.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

“That’ll be interesting.” Billie laughed, “I’m going to get some sleep, you should too. Don’t be up all night pacing holes into the floor, alright?”

“Alright. Good night Billie.” Isaac said, watching Billie as she walked up to the stairs, disappearing into the shadows cast by the fire-light. He looked out the window once more, staring out into the darkness, he blindly reached out for the curtains, only grabbing at air. He finally got ahold of it, pulling it closed and finally backed away from the window. He sat down at the tiny kitchen table, glancing at the window and then the door, leaning his face against his hand. His eyes felt heavy and his head tilted slightly. Through all his willpower, it was futile and within minutes Isaac was asleep, head rested on the table.

That was one thing Isaac missed about being The Outsider. He didn’t have to sleep. And more importantly, didn’t have to dream. He thought he was done with the Void when Billie helped him out of that mine, but it still seemed to follow him into his dreams. He hated how he could feel the coldness and the way that it made him feel so empty. So alone. He’d been like that before, it’d been like that when he _was_ The Outsider but with this newfound freedom, he didn’t have to feel that way anymore. Which made the emptiness of his dreams so much bigger and scarier. There wasn’t anything that discomforted Isaac more than his own dreams. Weren’t dreams supposed to be pleasant? Not empty?

Tonight, it wasn’t empty though. It wasn’t pleasant either. Isaac was on a lonely rocky path in the Void, nothing around him as far as the eye could see, just grey-blue sky and wind. It felt colder than all the other times before and he didn’t feel as alone. Which inherently wasn’t a good thing. He felt uneasy and unsafe. Like something was just a few steps behind him but when he checked, it was nothing. Then, from out of the rock, came hands of similar material, grabbing and pulling at his feet, pulling him down and into the rock, enveloping him completely. He felt as though he was suffocating, he hyperventilated and his vision got spotted and blurry and just as he was fading out of consciousness-

He woke up with a jerk, “No!” yelling in response to the sinking feeling in his guts, “No, no, no…” Isaac muttered, grabbing handfuls of his hair and raking his fingers through it. He was in his bed now- Billie must have moved him.

Billie opened the door, she looked half-asleep but there was genuine worry and concern on her face. “Isaac? Are you alright?”

Isaac took a deep breath and nodded, “It was just a bad dream.”

“Do you need anything?” Billie leaned against the doorframe, “Water? The lights on?”

“Stay with me for a moment if you can?” He glanced up at Billie, a sheen layer of sweat on his face, “I just- Need someone while I catch my breath.”

Billie nodded, sitting down on the edge of Isaac’s bed, “Take as long as you need,” She leaned over and rubbed Isaac’s back in small circles, “Haven’t had too many of those, hm?”

“No. Not really.” Isaac shook his head, eyes glued to the floor.

“Well, hopefully, we’ll keep it that way.” Billie stood up, turning the switch on the oil lamp that sat on Isaac’s dresser, “I’m just down the hall if you need me, alright?” 

Isaac nodded, cracking a tired smile as Billie stood just outside his bedroom, her void hand on the door handle, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Isaac.”

As Billie went to shut the door, a sword came out from the darkness, coming down on her neck, driving all the way through. Billie let out a croak and her body fell lifelessly to the floor, a hand pulling the sword from her neck. Isaac sat erect, watching the dark doorway with a fearful gaze, his moment frozen and his breathing stopped. He finally snapped out of it and Isaac bolted out into the hallway, disregarding anything else, he reached Billie, kneeling at her corpse, holding both her hands, “Please no…” He whispered, turning his head quickly to the creaking of the floorboards, and lit by his own torchlight, was an Overseer.

“Leave me alone!” Isaac yelled, lifting his head from the table abruptly.

Billie came running down the stairs, armed with a sword, “Who’s here?” She pointed the sword at the dark parts of the room.

Still illuminated slightly by the embers of the fire and the streetlights just outside, Isaac stood up, breathing still heavy, “Billie.” He said with a gasp, throwing himself at her, arms wrapping tightly around her. Billie jerked slightly before reciprocating the action, “There was an Overseer, he killed you.” Isaac muttered.

“It was just a dream, it’s okay…” Billie comforted, holding the back of his head, stroking his hair.

Isaac took a few minutes holding onto Billie before backing up, leaning against the kitchen table, “Just a dream…” He repeated.

Billie nodded and reaffirmed the young man, “Just a dream.”

And then there was the sound of shattering glass, followed by blood spattering across the wall behind Billie and Isaac and all over Isaac. 

Then Billie’s body fell to the ground.


	2. Realities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I thought I'd clarify some things about this story!  
> Isaac is my headcannoned name for The Outsider. Not his actual name, the one that the mark is, but something easier to digest for modern language and the people around him.  
> I also believe that he was still a teenager when he came out of the Void so he's relatively young. Please refrain from mentioning any ships.  
> Other than that, I hope you all really enjoy this story! Here's chapter twooo.

Isaac was waiting to wake up. He was waiting for Billie to come running down the stairs again or into his room to tell him that it was all just a nightmare and that no one was there to hurt him. He was waiting for the viscous, warm, blood to wash out of his clothing and off his face, all in an instant. He was waiting, just standing where he had been before, eyes locked on the wall ahead of him, trying so hard not to turn his attention to his peripherals. He waited for the gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach to go away, the ringing in his ears from the shattered glass of the window, and for time not to feel like it was going so slow.

And as quickly as everything had stopped in midair, it came crashing down on Isaac, and it was heavy. He couldn’t keep from looking down at Billie, her body crumpled on the ground, blood pooling around her head and her eye lifelessly open. Isaac let out a foreign noise to his tongue and his whole body convulsed. He felt sick. He didn’t have much time to wallow in the agony, though. As the little house’s door slammed open with such force it seemed to make the whole house shudder and shake. Looming in the doorway was a single man, cloaked in black, his face obscured.

Isaac turned to the man, backing up a few steps and into the kitchen table, knocking a glass bottle onto its side. It rolled off the table and onto the floor with a shatter that felt as loud as a foghorn in the painful silence he shared with the man.

Isaac conjured as much bravery as he could, swallowing the lump in his throat, “Why?” He asked, his voice wavering and croaking. And when all the man did was walk closer, he raised his voice, fumbling for anything he could defend himself with on the table, “ _ Why are you here? _ ”

“I’m here for you, Outsider.” The man said, and through the door rushed in several other people, quickly filling the room.

Isaac’s eyes tried to keep track of everyone in the room, counting every shrouded figure, dread filling him, “Are you the Abbey?”

“Used to be. Until the Empress decided we had no use to her anymore.” The man said, “We’ve heard of a man living in Karnaca, in a weakened state, that looks  _ exactly _ like the one in the paintings done by heretics. We’ve been tracking him for months. Asking questions, following dead leads. Who knew he’d be holed up in a waterfront shack with the infamous Billie Lurk.” He gestured to a dead Billie on the floor, getting closer to Isaac.

Isaac held his head up, keeping his expression as stiff as possible, glaring down the man. But anyone could see that the bravery was completely fabricated, a thin veil to hide the true fear in his eyes.

The man’s face scrunched up in confusion and concentration, carefully studying every detail of Isaac, “Your eyes,” He commented, “They’re not right.”

Isaac gawked for a moment, mouth slightly agape, he tried to conjure something believable but it fell flat, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tried to say with fake confidence, trying to exude that of which he had seen in Billie so many times before. The type that showed disregard for the chaos. But the way it came out was fast and panicky. He was visibly gritting his teeth and his fists were clenched tightly, his fingernails a sharp pain as they dug into the palms of his hands, “What about them?”

“They’re supposed to be black,” The man spat, “Aren’t they? What a lazy disguise.”

“I’m not The Outsider!” Isaac gave up the sheer facade of not being scared, and began to beg, “Please.” He bit the inside of his cheek, “Let me go. You’ve already killed my friend. What do you want from me?”

“You reek of heresy and lies. And those eyes aren’t fooling me, Outsider.” The man said, “Detain him.” He said with a wave of his hand, turning away and walking out the open door.

“What?” The words alone sent pin-pricks down Isaac’s spine, making every hair on his neck stand up on edge. The room felt so cold.

One of the Abbey- if they could even be called that, revealed a contraption from under his cloak, strapped to his chest. In the center of it was what could only be compared to the pin drum of a music box. A handle on one side, a crank on the other, and a large horn like that of a phonograph, but wider on the top. They turned the crank and the machine emitted a painful, screech-like song that made the whole room seem to vibrate and hurt Isaac’s head. He let out a yell, covering his ears with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Then something came down hard on the side of his head, and he was rendered unconscious, falling to the floor with a loud thud.

* * *

When Isaac woke up again, laying on warm, uncomfortable, metal, he had a pounding feeling in his head. Though he couldn’t figure out if it was from the music box machine, that was still wailing, or from the hit to the head he got. It was sweltering hot and there was a metallic taste on his tongue. He looked around, trying to assess the situation, to the left and right him, sitting on benches, were two Abbeymen, with their more recognizable masks on. One was cranking the music box, the other was watching Isaac, from his place on the floor of what Isaac could only assume to be a wagon of some sort from the sounds he could hear in his hazed state and the shakiness. He attempted to lift his head from the floor only to find his neck was shackled to the ground. As were his wrists. His legs weren’t flush with the ground but his ankles he found, were still cuffed together. He could feel beads of sweat on his forehead, rolling down the front of his face, pooling and dripping from his nose. His lips were dry and white spots clouded his vision.

Regardless of his physical state, the only thing Isaac could focus on was the panic that was slowly setting in as he took in more of his surroundings. He could feel his heart pounding hard and hands shaking. He looked around anxiously for some way out.

The two Overseers sitting with him hadn’t noticed Isaac’s stirrings and awakeness and began to converse with each other. 

“That wasn’t as difficult as I had expected.” The music box woman said.

“He’s in a weakened state, of course, it wasn’t all that trivial.” The other Overseer, a man said.

“No, but I’ve heard so much about The Outsider all the terrifying powers that he has and- even this seems underwhelming. Are we sure we have the right man?” The woman asked.

“You’ve seen the paintings, he’s a perfect match.”

“But the eyes?”

“He’s a master of deception. You don’t think he could manage a few physical alterations? He’s dangerous and letting him go just because you think we have the wrong man-”

“He’s hardly a man.” The woman said softly, still cranking the music box, “He reminds me of my eldest niece back in Dunwall-”   
  


“Don’t let his heresy fool you! Show this black-eyed demon no compassion.” The man ordered his voice echoing around the wagon cart.

“Right, of course, sir.” The woman apologized.

Isaac’s vision blurred and he once again was out cold. 


	3. Interrogation

When Issac was in the void, just watching the world in fragments through a morally grey perspective, he saw many things. Some were pure and some were not. And he grew more accustomed to that which could only be described as violent and unforgiving. He’d come to expect it from those he marked. He knew what power could do and he watched it happen over and over again, until they would eventually meet their demise. Inflicted the same way they had done to so many others. No peaceful death for the wicked. Only the luck of someone seeking vengeance or quick coin finding them that would finally see them six feet under. And then there were those who took power for themselves, and used it in unspeakable ways. Not corrupted  _ by _ it, but by the hunger for more and more. Coups held against royalty, cultists wanting rumoured power, and of course the Abbey of the Everyman.

Whether or not they were going to admit it, this was all just a grab for power. The Abbey putting an end to The Outsider and locking away the Void was surely a reputable act. Something that would surely put them back in the Empire’s good favor. The Abbey’s mere existence found on “protecting” the world from the accursed void and its young God. Heresy is deep-rooted in society and so, must be eliminated at the heart. The void is nothing without a master. Or that’s what they would have everyone believe. But Isaac knew better. He’d known for generations. He used to be The Outsider, after all.

Isaac sat in a chair, bound to it with a strange metal that made him feel sick and disoriented . His breath was tired and heavy and his tattered shirt was drenched in blood, sweat, and general filth. His hair was dirty and wet with sweat, it layed flat against his forehead that was equally as dirty. He had a cut across his eyebrow, dried blood where it had ran down his face, he scowled at the masked figures standing around him, “I’ve told you already,” There was a long quiet pause, “My name is Isaac Foster.” He glares at the people in front of him, speaking slowly, “-and I am  _ not  _ The Outsider.”

“You answers,  _ Isaac Foster _ , continue to disappoint me. We already know you’re The Outsider, just admit it and we can move on from this whole mess.” The man in front of the other two Overseers, said.

“Why? So you can kill me?” Isaac looked up at him, “I’m. Not. The. Outsider.” The front man swung a fist at Isaac. It collided with his face with a hard, wet cracking noise. Isaac’s jaw throbbed, pulsating throughout the entire left side of his face, “You’re not getting anything out of this. Just-“ He panted, “Just take me back to my cell.” He looked down at the floor.

“You don’t get to decide when this is over you bastard.” The man prepared to swing at Isaac again.

“Wait.” Said the person to the right, a woman, “He’s right Arthur, this is just wasting time. We’ve been at this for how long now? Three hours? Four? He’s obviously not cracking, let’s brainstorm another plan and we’ll come back to this later.” She put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

Arthur sighed, letting his hand fall back down to his side, “Fine.” He walked away from Isaac, picking a book up from the interrogation room table. He turned back, pointing a finger at Isaac, “Don’t think you’ve evaded anything you black-eyed demon. We’ll be seeing each other again tomorrow. Katerina, take him back to his cell.” And with that, he left the room, the door slamming behind him.

“Yes, Arthur.” The woman nodded, lifting a music box from a hanger off the wall and strapping it to her chest. The other person who hadn’t said a word during the session, undid Isaac’s bindings, pulling him up from the chair. They retrieved a pair of cuffs from their belt and put them around his wrists. Katerina came back with the music box and began cranking it. The ‘music’ made Isaac flinch. The three, Isaac in the middle, the silent one in front, and Katerina in the back, playing the music box, exited the room, walking down the narrow, dirty halls. This was nothing like what the Abbey once had. Rats scurried across the creaking, rotten, wooden floors. There were buckets collecting drips from the ceiling, and the wallpaper was peeling off, revealing a drywall covered in mold and mildew. 

They eventually arrived at the makeshift prison cell, a room that had a wall poorly removed, replaced with metal bars. The silent person opened the creaking metal cell door, pushing Isaac in and slamming it behind him. “I can take music box duty.” They offered.

“No, I can,” Katerina took a seat on the bench just across from the cell, “Get some sleep, it’s very late.”

“Thank you Katerina.” They nodded and walked off.

Katerina stopped the music box once they were out of range, unstrapping it and setting it down at her feet. She took off her mask, pulling down her hood as well, “These things get so hot,” She smiled at Isaac.

“I had a feeling it was you,” Isaac smiled faintly back, coming up to the bars, “Katerina’s your name?”

“Yes. And you’re Isaac.” She ran her thumbs over the grooves of the mask.

He nodded, “I’ve been appreciating the extra food you’ve left me on your shifts.”

“It’s the least I can do for you. I don’t like to see this- Someone as young as yourself being wrongfully accused of being The Outsider.” Katerina looked at him with a soft and sympathetic expression on her face, “I was on the cart with you on the ride here and I knew from the moment that I saw you- saw you bleed, that we’d made a mistake, that you weren’t who we were looking for.” She was quiet for a minute then laughed.

“What’s so funny about that?” Isaac scrunched up his face.

“Oh nothing, I’m not laughing at that.” She assured him, waving her hand, “I was just thinking about how much you remind me of my neice. She was twenty.”

“Was.”

Katerina nodded slowly, standing up and walking over to the cell, “Her name was Jolene, and she was more like my daughter. Her mother died when she was only a few months old, I was the only one who could take her,” She explained, “She got mixed up in some cult stuff, with a gang called the Eyeless. Committed suicide “For The Outsider”. That’s what her note said at least. So that’s why I’m here. Tracked down the remnants of the Abbey and now I’m here to get closure her.”

Isaac looked at Katerina, biting down on the inside of his cheek hard, “I am so sorry-“ He could taste blood in his mouth, “For your loss. That’s terrible.”

“She would’ve liked you a lot, Isaac. You’ve both got the same passion inside of you.”

“For you to just take her in like that…” Isaac muttered, “My mother died too-“ He trailed off, looking down at his cuffed hands.

Katerina looked kindly at him.

“And I had no other family to turn to. I was on the streets for a long time.”

Katerina reached through the bars, placing a hand on top of Isaac’s, “No child should have to be alone like that, I’m sorry Isaac, I couldn’t even begin to imagine.”

“It’s alright, it was a long time ago.” Isaac looked up at her. His mouth was slightly agape and he seemed hesitant to speak, scanning Katerina’s face for some kind of dealbreaker, “Four-thousand years ago.”

Katerina pulled her hand away quickly, backing up. Her face was mix of fear, disgust, and confusion, “You’re-“

Isaac panicked, “I was. I’m not anymore, please, Katerina, just listen to me-“

“I need help!” She yelled down the hall. And Isaac felt his stomach knot. She rushed over to the cell door, shakily pulling her keys from her belt. She unlocked the door and swung it open.

“I’m not-“

“Run.” Katerina said in a harsh low voice, “Get out of here as fast as you can, there’s fire escapes on the top and third floor.  _ Don’t _ let them catch you.” She unlocked the cuffs around his wrists.

“I don’t understand-” Isaac looked around in a panic.

“You don’t have to. And neither do I. Get out of here now Isaac.” Katerina pulled her sword sheath; sword still inside, from her belt, and shoved it into Isaac’s hands. They both turned their heads to the sound of running feet.

“Thank you.” Isaac said, running off and down the hall in the other direction, heart racing. He turned the corner at the end of the hall, pressing against the wall to catch his breath and listen. There was incoherent yelling of a few Overseers as well as Katerina followed by more running. Isaac took off again, veering off into a room. He closed and locked the door behind him.


	4. A Letter

Isaac held his breath, glancing around the room before he slid down the door with a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes, bringing his hands up to his hair and running through it shakily. He could feel his heart beating and his legs and arms trembling. The adrenaline was slowly starting to wear off and he could feel every ache and pain. His head throbbed and even with closed eyes, there were spots and flashes. He could feel the stinging of old and new burns alike, alongside with the cuts and knicks across his entire body. Isaac was trying to place an event to the pains but he couldn’t remember. He didn’t even know how long he’d been here- wherever ‘here’ was. He’d tried the first few days, but in that jail cell and those interrogation rooms, there were no windows, and time became a trivial thing he couldn’t be bothered with.

Time; he’d never worried much about it before. Before, he was an all-seeing being. But he’d never really had a grasp over time. At any given moment, The Outsider could have told you about anything or anywhere within the present, reminisce about anything he’d seen throughout the 4000 years he’d been around. But the future, he had no control over that. Watching events unfold like anyone else. He remembered watching with great curiosity, the mercifulness of Corvo Attano, when other people would have given in to the anger, watched Daud feel remorse for a job he’d done countless times before. And Billie. Who had come to the Void to finish her last promise to Daud, to kill The Outsider, but instead, came out of that mining town with no blood on her hands. Only a young boy with knowledge of multiple millennia. But now Billie was dead, and it was Isaac’s fault. How could Isaac not blame himself for that? The Abbey of the Everyman came looking for The Outsider, and Billie Lurk just happened to be in the way of that. And she paid with her life. All because of The Outsider, because of Isaac.

Isaac stood up, wincing, and walking over to the window. It was dark but he could see faint lights off in the distance. And on the windowsill piled up, was snow. The glass had frost around the edges. There was his first clue as to where he was.

Turning back into the room, he took in his surroundings a little better. It was a sort of office, living chamber type combination. It was mostly bare, matching much of the other interiors that Isaac had seen of this building. On a desk, were stacks of books and rolls of paper. Centered next to a glass pen and a bottle of ink was a letter- only half-written. Isaac leaned over the desk, picking up the letter and reading it.

_“Leonard, I have always praised your tactical and investigational skills greatly, finding The Outsider was no easy feat. And your swift handling of Billie Lurk was very admirable. It’s a damn shame that we have been criminalized and you’re unable to receive that bounty she had on her head. But I question your haste to leave Tyvia for Pandyssia. Though it’s been 3 months, He has not broken spirit and refuses to give us a confession. The public, (now more than ever) would not look kindly upon us executing someone without proof they are who we say they are. We’re running out of options. All we ask for is advice and-”_

Isaac let out a heavy sigh, looking around the room at nothing in specific. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, still raw from earlier. He knew the name of his abductor. The man who shot Billie in the head. And he knew where he was. What was he supposed to do? He’d seen this scenario before. With Corvo, Emily Kaldwin, and countless others before. He’d watched people be merciful and forgiving- aggressive and hateful. But he’d never been the one with that choice. He was trying to think about what Billie would have done if it was him. But even when he was The Outsider, Billie always confused him. She left a trail of blood and death in her path to find him but saved him in the end. She betrayed Daud, the closest thing she had to family. He honestly couldn’t say what Billie would have done. Isaac wished he could ask her. If only he could reach into the Void and ask her what she wanted him to do. But that was all useless wishful thinking. He still needed to get out of the Abbey’s ‘headquarters’.

* * *

  
  


The letter answered two things. Who brought Isaac here, and where ‘here’, was. Tyvia. More specifically the capital city of Dabokva. He was far from Karnaca, and in the dead of The Month of High Cold. Anyone could agree that in that month, in a place like Tyvia, there was something very strange about a young man walking barefoot, wrapped in a bedsheet. And someone walking down cobbled streets, wearing only worn-out clothing with concerning reddish-brown stains, was sure to turn a few heads. Isaac tried not to pay attention to their staring. He could feel them though.

Isaac pulled the blanket tighter around himself, keeping his eyes straight ahead, looking down just enough that no one could see his face straight on and he didn’t have to see them watching him. The less attraction he could draw to himself, the lesser the chances of him getting recognized. The further that he walked, the more he wondered if his attempt at discretion was more of a red flag than not. Sometimes he wished that he never got his portrait done all those years ago.

Someone grabbed onto Isaac’s shoulder, stopping him, he turned around hesitantly to face a woman, she had a concerned, sweet look on her face, “Are you okay?” Isaac nodded, pulling away from her grip, only to be stopped by her again, she brought a warm hand up to his face, grazing his cheek with her thumb. Isaac held his breath, turning his face away. “Wait…” She said softly, grabbing his face again and turning him back to look at her, “You’re The-” Isaac pulled himself away, picking up the pace and hurrying down the street. He lifted the blanket over his head, holding tightly with both hands. He shivered as the wind picked up, blowing snow into his face. His fingers were numbing and he could barely feel his feet. He stumbled off to the side of the street out of the way of people walking, leaning against the side of a building.

Someone grabbed onto Isaac’s wrist and he lost his grip on the blanket. They turned him around, but he was too cold and tired to resist.

The person laughed raspily, “Well I’ll be damned.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter one today, hope you guys enjoyed it nonetheless! good things are coming!


End file.
